The Comtessa. She brought it on herself.
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A sad way for her story to end, down in the Clay Warrens. She should have been more careful.
You look into the dark and passing water
It's pretty, at night, with the blue gas-lamps of the Embankment reflecting in the river below. Cold, though. You go in search of a warming brandy. The Comtessa is quite forgotten. After all, she stopped being your problem a long time ago now.